Summer Heat
by AREYASHI
Summary: A tremendous heat wave hits Hogwarts, bringing Harry some strange feelings towards a certain Slytherin, whom, incidentally, he keeps bumping into in the strangest of places. HPDM - ONE SHOT.


Yeah, so. I went through a tremendous heat wave around maybe a week ago, and this is what came up. Another long one shot.  
Enjoy!

* * *

x x x

Summer was having a hard time changing into fall. Students annoyingly shoved by each other along the wide, Hogwarts corridors, the heat from their bodies seemingly filling the air. Harry wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve, for once, reluctant to leave Potions. The room had been, despite Professor Snape's usual bullying, quite comfortable. He assumed that the rooms temperature had been charmed so that the ingredients wouldn't boil or react to the heat, and Snape had happily shoved all the students out the door at the bell. He knew they were suffering.

Harry entered the History of Magic class spotting Hermione and Ron, who appeared to be slumped over their desks, fanning themselves weakly. He took a seat beside Ron immediately loosening his tie in an attempt to get comfortable. The smell of sweat filled his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose slightly, glancing around. The rest of the students were pulling their sweaters off, falling asleep, or looking through their books to find some sort of relief from the temperature. Some even charmed fans so that they followed them around, and had a breeze wherever they went. Harry thought it was useless and didn't like having hot air forcefully shoved in his face, and stuck to suffering in peaceful silence.

Ron stood suddenly, appearing angry as he tried to forcefully open a window. As soon as it slid open, he let out a cry and frantically shut it again, "It's even hotter outside!" Harry squinted as he felt the impossibly warmer air hit his face, and turned his head away until it disappeared. Ron collapsed back into his seat, and let his head fall forward onto his closed book, his previous energy gone.

"I wish they charmed all the classes, this is dreadful," Hermione groaned, and Harry was surprised to hear her complain. Her bushy hair was pulled back into a braid, and he assumed it was because strands would end up sticking to her face anyway. She propped her elbow up and rested her head on her hand, "I'm going to find out what that spell is, no matter how long it takes." She had been researching for about a week now endlessly, and had to cast a few energy spells to keep herself awake during classes.

"I have to admit, I'd rather be in Potions right now," he said, being reminded of the charmed classroom. Ron shuddered at the thought of Professor Snape, but nodded in agreement. Running a hand through his hair, he realized his scalp was sweaty too, and sighed in dismay. Wiping his moist hand on his pants, he looked up to see Malfoy and his usual group of friends stroll into the room, their ties loose and their faces shiny. Not even Draco Malfoy could appear nonchalant in this temperature.

Ron frowned, immediately glaring, and Harry heard a grumpy, "prat" pass the boys lips. The red heads mood always turned foul when the boy appeared, but Harry couldn't blame him. He didn't like the blond haired Slytherin either, and was certain that everyone in his house hated him.

"It's bad enough we have to endure the heat and this class," Hermione muttered, sitting upright when their professor appeared from behind the black board.

Cuthburt Binns began the lesson at his normal pace, after attempting some jokes about the heat, but failing. Nobody wanted to laugh at the cause of their suffering, and Cuthburt, being the only one unaffected by the heat, thought it was hysterical. Harry's concentration was weak and he found himself tapping his quill on his paper, spacing out, the professors voice sounding like a dull hum in the background. Even Hermione was too distracted to encourage him to keep jotting down notes. He found himself staring at the few words he had written, his mind hazy.

A piece of paper fluttered gracefully to him, and his reflexes automatically made sure he caught it between his fingers. Looking up and across the room, he spotted Malfoy sneering at him. He heard himself intake a sharp breath. Those ice blue eyes sent a chill down his spine, and he tore his gaze away to unfold the paper and smooth out the creases.

_"You look even more ridiculous then usual, Potter," _The tiny scrawl mocked him.

Glancing down at himself, he really must have. His hair probably looked messier than usual, damp with sweat, and his face was probably shiny, not to mention the untidy way he wore his uniform that day. He wasn't the only one in the class that looked like this, he realized, and looked at Malfoy again, prepared to glare. The boy was still peering at him, his eyes trailing up and down Harry's appearance. Harry suddenly felt nervous, his lips unintentionally parting as his chest fluttered. The blond seemed to notice, because his gaze fixed itself on Harry's face.

Harry turned away to grab his quill, dabbing it in ink and pressing the tip to the charmed paper, but paused. He felt like he had to write something back, but what would he say? They'd end up passing insults to each other during the rest of the class, he thought, and decided he'd rather not. Scrunching the paper up, he raised his eyes to the professor again, using his energy to keep his eyes away from that side of the classroom.

* * *

x

* * *

Class ended after what seemed like eternity, and Hermione immediately rushed to the library, intent on finding that blissful spell once again. Ron and Harry wished her luck and left History of Magic quickly, hoping that the Great Hall would be much more comfortable. They were wrong, of course, and sat, sweating while eating lunch at the Gryffindor table. Despite the fact that the heat caused everyone to be irritated at everything, chatter filled the room. Harry munched on his food quietly, though, having just remembered that he had a Quidditch match later. It was against the Slytherin's, but what he was most worried about was losing focus.

Harry's eyes darted past Ron, to the Slytherin table. Would it be the sun that would distract him?

"Hey," Ron said, nudging him, "don't worry. You're the best Seeker Hogwarts has had in a long time."

Feeling his chest tighten, he laughed nervously, "I just hope the temperature isn't that bad out there." He was thankful Ron wasn't following his gaze. Malfoy had rolled up his sleeves, revealing even more pale skin. He assumed it was soft, because Pansy kept on stroking it. Well, she was seemingly brushing something off of him, but still. Harry couldn't help but brush his finger tip over his own arm, wondering if he was soft. He decided he wasn't.

Pansy Parkinson was known for her promiscuous nature and it was clearly evident when he looked at her. The uniform barely looked like one anymore. She had pulled the skirt up so high that it wouldn't be difficult to see what color panties she wore that day, much to Harry's dismay, and she had undone half the buttons of her blouse. She probably wore the black bra on purpose, Harry thought, and found himself trying to follow Malfoy's gaze. Did he like it ?

Glancing around, almost all the male eyes were on her. He looked to the boy in front of him, pleased that Ron had a bit more dignity, or was just too sweaty and uncomfortable to stare.

"Don't worry about it!" Ron's voice broke his chain of thought, sounding extremely weary. The heat really got to the red headed boy, but at least he had fun spiking up Harry's hair using his sweat. It was disgusting, but he was far too drained to slap the boys hands away.

Harry risked another glance over, promising himself he'd only look for one more second. The blond was laughing, probably at something he, himself said, or at something awful from another Slytherin. But then he noticed that Malfoy's smile looked strange on his lips. It was far too innocent and unlike him, and he found himself gazing at the boy. He wanted to see him smile again, _at me_, he realized, and wouldn't settle for any smirk or anything related to smugness.

Then, the boy turned his head in his direction and Harry pulled his eyes away, trying to appear like he was deep in conversation with the red head in front of him. His heart gave another flutter in his chest.

Must be the heat.

Hermione burst into the Great Hall, walking briskly to them, and Harry was thankful for the distraction. She was extremely sweaty, more so than the rest of the student body, but appeared to be excited. "I found it! I found it!" She cried, and the Gryffindor table gave loud, cheerful hoots, patting her proudly on the shoulder as she walked by. They must've been counting on her to be the solution to their hell. Onlookers turned their heads, wondering what on earth was going on, but thankfully nobody questioned it. The professors even looked the other way, but Dumbledore, of course, had a twinkle in his eye. Her cheeks pinkened at the attention, and she took a seat beside Ron.

"Finally," Ron said, grinning at her, "did you cast it already?"

"Of course! It took me all my strength to leave the common room just to tell you guys," she said, pouting a little.

The other houses looked at them curiously, and the dark haired boy's grin faded a little. "You think we should tell the other houses?" He carefully avoided looking at the faces at the Slytherin table.

Ron immediately frowned, "no way! If they want to find it, they can go look in the library themselves." Hermione kicked him underneath the table, and he immediately apologized.

Harry chuckled quietly at the face Ron was making, and took a bite of his scarcely touched food, deciding it would be his last. He felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the many flushed and sweaty faces peering over at them, and stood up. "I'm going to get ready for the Quidditch match," he said quickly, "see you there?"

Once they nodded, he hurried out of the Great Hall. He actually wanted to test out the spell before anything else. He badly needed to cool off.

* * *

x

* * *

After Harry had bathed in the relaxing sweet air of the common room, he prepared for the Quidditch match. Accustomed to the comfortable temperature, he had walked out, and he immediately felt like he was suffocating in the air that came in contact with him. Suddenly, that blissful spell wasn't as perfect as he thought. The heat burned his lungs uncomfortably and he had to wipe the steam that appeared on his glasses.

Soon finding himself walking out onto the Quidditch field, he was already sticky with sweat. Of course, the people that had already been in the heat all day, wondered why he looked so much worse than they did. Before he mounted his broomstick, he looked at Malfoy who was staring intently at him before a smirk curled his lips.

That stupid flutter came back in his chest, and they soon soared into the air; the game began.

Things started out as they usually did, Harry zooming around the field, looking for the Snitch. The hot air collided with him full force as he picked up speed, and he didn't know what was worse: staying still, or moving. He decided he'd rather have the breeze, and never stopped moving. He managed to dodge the Bludgers that kept aiming themselves at his face. It was much more difficult with the sun beating down on him, and looking up would cause temporary blindness.

His sweaty hands slipped against the warm wood of his broomstick handle, and he had to hold it tightly in case he lost his grip. Catching a glimpse of green, he turned his head and his eyes automatically locked with a familiar blond, who was flying almost beside him. Almost.

"What's wrong, Potter?" He scoffed, "the heat too much for you?"

Feeling somewhat offended he sped up, trying to lose the boy and kept his eyes trained on his surroundings, looking for a glint of gold. He barely dodged another Bludger, doing what looked like a back flip on his broomstick, and heard a laugh from behind him. Malfoy.

He ignored him again, his cheeks flushing, and glanced down. His knuckles were white from gripping the broomstick handle far too tight, and he could feel a dull ache in his knuckles already. He had to finish this soon. His eyes darted around as he flew by the rest of the players, desperately searching for any signs of the Snitch. He felt his head beginning to ache, and slowed down to reach up and wipe his hand on his clothes, and his forehead on his sleeve. He heard himself panting, but didn't stop searching. Where the hell was the bloody Snitch!

Ducking away from another Bludger, he heard a loud_ thwack_! He then heard the sickening sound of a Bludger coming in contact with a body, followed by a groan, and his face paled. He turned his head, and almost immediately, a sigh of relief escape his lips. He felt guilty for feeling relieved that it wasn't...

His eyes widened. The Snitch. It darted around below the previously attacked Slytherin, it's tiny wings flapping so fast they blurred. It looked like a golden hummingbird. Unconsciously loosening his grip on his broomstick, he charged after it, wondering why he didn't see Malfoy chasing after it as well. Maybe he didn't see it, for now. Filled with the desire to capture it quickly, he sped up, and extended his arm towards it. The sweat on his face was streaking across his cheeks from the pressure of the wind, and he constantly felt the urge to close his eyes. The hot air was making them water.

"Almost... there..." he muttered to himself. He was so close, so close. His vision darkened and his muscles strained, and he felt his headache blossom until he saw stars.

But suddenly, he was falling. The sky was in front of him now, and he saw his broomstick. Closing his eyes for the pain that was soon to come, he welcomed the darkness that greeted him.

* * *

x

* * *

"Must've been the heat."

"Yeah, it's a good thing the git didn't see the Snitch, or else Harry would've been hurt."

Harry heard himself let out a weak groan as he struggled to open his eyes. He expected to feel broken in places or sore in others, but he didn't. He only felt tired and uncomfortable. The heat was still awful. Why did they put a blanket on him?

"Oh, you're awake," he heard Hermione say, sounding relieved. He finally cracked an eye open, then shut it again. The light hurt. He shoved the thin sheet off of him hoping to get comfortable.

"Yeah...." he muttered, swallowing, "what happened?"

He heard Ron sigh. "Well, you fell off your broom," he began, "must've been the heat; you looked awful."

The dark haired wizard struggled to sit up, slowly opening his eyes and adjusting to the light, "then why aren't I injured?"

They shifted their weight uncomfortably, as if struggling with their words, but Hermione spoke up finally, "Well, Malfoy happened to fly underneath you right as you were falling and he," she looked at him, "caught you, I guess."

Harry's lips parted in shock, and his eyes fell to his hands. They were talking about the same Malfoy, right? That spoiled, selfish blond boy who hated his guts and loved tormenting him, had saved him_? _Wondering if there were any other, nicer Malfoy's in Hogwarts, he came up with none. Closing his mouth, he cleared his throat, "What about my broom?"

Ron let out a grin instantly, "Perfectly fine! It didn't get blown into the Whomping Willows like the other one did."

Harry couldn't help but grin as well, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He noticed they weren't talking about how the match had ended; they probably lost. He smiled through his disappointment, "Shall we go?" He remembered the common room, wanting to return to that comfort right away, and stood. He was glad Madam Pomfrey had changed his clothes into something more comfortable, hoping she used magic to do so, and stretched his limbs.

"We'll meet up with you later, Harry," Ron said laughing nervously, "you see .. Snape found out that Hermione charmed the common room and she got in trouble for snooping around in the restricted section in the library, and when I stood up for her I got roped in."

"We have to clean cauldrons," Hermione said and made a face, clearly loathing the idea, "and we can't use our wands."

Harry patted their shoulders, "At least he isn't removing the spell." The two of them perked up instantly at his words.

"Yeah, good point! We'll meet you there, Harry!" Ron said, eager to finish quickly. The two of them left the hospital wing to the Potions room, and he soon after left, walking towards the Gryffindor common room. Thoughts flooded his mind as soon as he was alone.

Why had Malfoy, of all people, saved him? It must've been an unfortunate accident for the boy, saving his arch nemesis. He felt his heart sink as he tried to imagined what it would've looked like: Harry Potter falling through the air and landing on the unsuspecting boy, who just happened to be Draco Malfoy. The heat had gotten to everyone lately. Malfoy didn't see the Snitch, and also didn't see a boy falling above him. Maybe Harry had caught it after all? He then reluctantly realized that Malfoy must've caught it while the dark haired was unconscious, and he just lost Gryffindor the game.

He heard the Fat Lady ask him for the password, to which he automatically muttered, "diligrout," and stepped inside. The students that spotted him, patted him as he walked by, probably attempting to comfort him, but he didn't care and smiled as he walked past. The air that surrounded him was so comforting and lifted his mood quite a bit but he couldn't help but notice the smell of his own sweat. He needed a shower. Why hadn't they charmed the hospital wing, too?

He chuckled at the thought. Students would be injuring themselves all over Hogwarts to lie in bed and relax. Finding himself a towel, he walked to the showers and made sure the water temperature was cold before stepping in. Sighing pleasantly as the cool water washed over him, he closed his eyes.

Harry's thoughts once again brought the image of that blond Slytherin. He was terribly confused, and wanted desperately to know what was on that boys mind at the moment. Was he disgusted with himself? Maybe, just maybe that save was intentional?

He shook his head. No. Of course it wasn't. Unless he was hoping for something ridiculous in return. The only person Malfoy thought of was himself and maybe his family, but that was probably it. His chest clenched, maybe even Pansy.

Thinking he was thoroughly clean and had enough time by himself, he turned the knob and shut the water off, wrapping the towel around his waist. Stepping out into his room, he frowned in surprise at the silence that greeted him. The common room was strangely quiet. Maybe everyone had left, but Harry saw no reason for them to. There was no way anyone would leave the room, willingly, unless absolutely necessary. Risking a peek, he put on his glasses and opened the door, stepping out when he saw that it was empty. Why had they left? He ran a hand through his wet hair and turned to go back into his quarters to dress, when he heard a tongue click. He froze.

"Well, well Potter. It is true," he heard a voice. He instantly paled hoping to God he heard wrong, and turned sharply toward the voice.

His sudden fear was confirmed. Draco Malfoy, sitting on a Gryffindor chair, in the Gryffindor common room. In front of him. His hair dripped and a droplet ran down his cheek.

His mouth opened, but he was speechless.

"That Granger girl was the one who charmed the room, that's why she's out there with Weasley running errands for Professor Snape, isn't that right?"

He cleared his throat hesitantly, "What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" He meant to sound more bitter and hateful, but was surprised when his voice came out soft.

"All I had to do was bribe some first years," he raised his ice blue eyes to meet his own green ones, and Harry felt that flutter again. That damn flutter. The boy continued, "You owe me anyway, don't tell anyone I came in here."

His heart dropped a little, so that's why he had saved him. To bathe in the sweet, charmed air. Not to check on him. He heard himself laugh a little, awkwardly, and Malfoy raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"What are you laughing at?"

Harry chose not to answer him and looked down, blushing, realizing that a towel was the only thing covering him at the moment. He wanted so badly to run into his room to change but decided that leaving a Slytherin alone in the common room could be trouble. He walked over and sat down in the seat in front of the boy, making sure to cover himself properly, and stared at him.

Those eyes were once again trailing over him, and Harry shuddered slightly, covering it up by speaking, "Can't you just charm your own common room?"

Malfoy's eye twitched a little, "That requires work, and we all know that the filthy mudblood is the only one who can withstand working in this heat. You selfish Gryffindors could've told us the spell, and made it easier for all of us."

"Don't call her that," his fists clenched a little, "she has a name, you know."

"Whatever," He waved his pale hand, leaning in slightly, "but really, those Weasley's might as well be a mudblood family too, they're pathetic."

His jaw clenched, "Shut up Malfoy. They may not be as well off as you are, but they're worth twenty of you and your family."

He watched Malfoy's smirk fade, and the boy gave a bitter laugh, but didn't retort. The stupid git was having fun making him angry, he realized, and shot a glare at him. The boys hair wasn't as slicked back as it usually was, and his uniform wasn't properly worn, which surprised Harry. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie wasn't there, revealing more pale skin somewhere other than his arms. His eyes locked, unconsciously, on that spot revealed to him, somehow mesmerized.

Before he realized what he was saying, he asked him the one question that was plaguing his mind, "Why did you save me?"

It had obviously caught Malfoy off guard. The room was dead silent for the next couple minutes, but Harry patiently waited, watching him. The boy leaned back in his seat, staring at Harry with a troubled expression, before he finally replied, "I don't know."

Harry's lips parted. He had expected him to say that he just wanted to come in here without getting in trouble, or that he didn't mean to and had just happened to be flying underneath him. He looked at the boy, wondering what he was thinking.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" The dark haired said, frowning in confusion.

"I meant exactly what I said," he replied, annoyed. "I," he leaned forward, "don't," his eyes flickered with what looked like confusion, then amusement, "know."

Harry wasn't satisfied, and opened his mouth to speak again when he heard the common room door open, and he turned his head to see his friends stroll in. Immediately, they stopped, their pleased expressions fading into shock, looking from himself to Malfoy, and back again.

Ron looked at Harry, pointing at Malfoy, "what's_ he _doing in here?" He demanded, "are you mad, Harry?"

Hermione pulled her wand from out of her robes, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy stood up, "tell your stupid first years that they really ought to keep the passwords to themselves," he spat, stepping closer to the door behind Ron and Hermione, "being prone to bribery isn't a good quality, but very convenient for some."

With that, he left, and Harry looked at his hands, waiting for his friends to bombard him with questions. After all, it must've looked terrible. Their worst enemy, sitting in their common room across from their best friend, who was almost naked. Indeed, it looked terrible.

"Harry..." Ron began, "what in the world was Draco Malfoy doing in here?"

"And why are you barely wearing any clothes," Hermione said more than asked, but didn't avert her eyes. She must've been used to walking in on him and Ron topless countless times.

"Nothing really happened," he said, "I took a shower, and came out here because everyone seemed to have left, and there he was. He said the first years gave him the password after he bribed them."

"Why didn't you kick him out?" The red head asked in disbelief.

"Because," Harry said, standing up, "he had just happened to have saved me from possibly getting a serious injury," he frowned, "he heard of the spell Hermione cast in here, I guess he wanted to check it out."

"I'm surprised you two weren't arguing," Hermione said, slipping her wand away and sitting down, letting out a sigh, "or that he didn't come in here to hurt you."

"If we tell Professor McGonagall to change the password, the first years will get in trouble," Harry said, biting his lip.

"So what? They deserve it for being so untrustworthy," Ron said, leaning against the wall.

"But then so will Malfoy, and I do owe him for saving me."

"Then just pay him back later, this is serious and if the password spreads, we'll get in trouble for keeping it from her," Hermione said, closing her eyes, "we'll all get in trouble."

Harry sighed, "alright." He left the room to get properly dressed, finally wearing his uniform nicely. He knew that once he stepped out of here, though, it would end up rolled up and unbuttoned and loose again. He took a seat beside Hermione, leaning back and relaxing. He heard Ron join them, and all was silent for a moment or two.

The dark haired wizard shot up in his seat, his face panic-stricken, "I completely forgot," he breathed, "I have to write an essay for Professor Snape, and it's due tomorrow. I have to write two parchments worth!" He scrambled to his feet.

"Oh shoot, we forgot to remind you. You were unconscious for quite a while so we wrote it in the hospital wing while waiting for you," Ron said, looking at him apologetically.

"It's fine, It's fine, I'll see you guys later, okay?" He said, hurriedly grabbing his books and his quill before stopping in front of the door. He closed his eyes tightly before opening it and stepping outside, and let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the hot air hit him. He immediately fumbled with his clothes, rolling up his sleeves, unbuttoning and untucking his shirt, before briskly walking towards the library. He was determined to finish his assignment, and nothing would stop him.

* * *

x

* * *

The library was nearly empty when he got there, which surprised Harry. He was sure people would be clambering around the books, trying to find the spell that Hermione had found, but was nonetheless glad they weren't. He just wanted some peace and quiet. Choosing the farthest table, he sat down and got to work, his brows knitted in determination.

His quill never ceased scratching, but his thoughts ended up wandering again. What kind of answer was, _"I don't know_"? He was sure Malfoy_ did_ know, but was keeping something from him. What in the world could he keep from him? Maybe him being injured would ruin his plan to injure him much worse. Maybe it was a bet that he lost. Maybe he honestly didn't know that Harry was falling and was too embarrassed to admit that he wasn't paying attention.

Or maybe he just honestly didn't know.

His quill shook furiously as he wrote faster, his writing getting noticeably messier, but he didn't care. Professor Snape would probably take off marks anyway, even if he wrote the neatest he possibly could.

He heard the library door open and the sound of someone entering the library, but didn't look up from his parchment. His heart hammered in his chest when he thought of the way Malfoy looked at him nowadays. It was probably just him, but the smirks and sneers and insults didn't sound or look as threatening as they used to. Even the way the boy looked at him didn't appear as hateful. He shuddered in his seat as he remembered the way Malfoy's gaze made him feel. It didn't feel like complete loath for the boy, or disgust, or annoyance. Maybe he was tolerable to him.

He chuckled at himself. What a fool he was being.

Leaning back into his chair and pausing, he ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a sigh. Must concentrate, he reminded himself and dabbed his quill in the ink bottle.

Before he could continue, a hand appeared and grabbed his arm. He gasped in surprise and was suddenly pulled up to his feet and dragged away from the table.

"What the hell? What are you doing? Who are you?"

"Shut up, and listen, Potter," he heard the familiar snarl. He stopped panicking and looked up at his kidnapper, who was incidentally, Draco Malfoy. He could spot that platinum blond hair a mile away. His heart hammered, and instead of wondering where he was going and what was happening, all he could think of was the warm palm that was wrapped around his wrist. He was silently pulled behind the farthest bookshelf before he was released, and Harry rubbed the spot those pale fingers had, just a moment ago, been. He didn't like how he missed the warmth.

"Explain yourself," the boy demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry blinked dumbly, "Wha... what?" Malfoy looked furious, and he didn't have a clue why.

"Don't act stupid! You know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning in close, "explain the spell you've placed on me, and why you've even done such a thing!"

The dark haired had never been so confused in his life, "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Malfoy?"

The blond sighed in annoyance, gritting his teeth, "The spell," he spat, "remove it."

"_What_ spell? Could you, for the hundredth time, explain to me what you're talking about?" Harry was growing irritated. He almost raised his voice, but the librarian would probably kick them out. He wanted to get some answers out of this boy before anything else, not to mention he needed to finish his assignment.

Malfoy sighed again, "The spell! The one you've casted on me ever since this stupid heat wave started! Don't think I didn't notice, Potter," he glared at him, "I thought I could endure it and let you have your fun, but you still haven't stopped."

"Dra-Malfoy," that was close. "I honestly did not cast a spell on you, therefore I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, then raised his hand towards the boys face, "do you have a fever or something? Maybe you're delirious."

The boy slapped his hand away, "I'm perfectly fine!"

"Then what are you raving on and on about?"

"Did you get that pathetic mudblood to do it for you? Or maybe that stupid Weasley kid? Real smart," He growled, and Harry glared at him.

"Don't call them that, Malfoy," he spat back, "I didn't make them do anything, and I don't even know what spell you're talking about! How can you be so sure it's me?"

"Because!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for the boy to continue.

"Because," he said, softer now, "It's only when I look at_ you _that I get this strange feeling, it's.. like my heart is fluttering, or I feel tingly or.. or something," he said awkwardl. "I'd rather hate you like I did before, Potter! Now get rid of this stupid spell!"

He stared at the pale boy before him, his eyes wide. His heart had started beating fast when Malfoy explained his first symptom, and was still racing in his chest. Malfoy was feeling the same things he was feeling the entire time? His fingers twitched as he noticed a stray, platinum strand out of place, and ached to brush it aside, but thought it looked like it belonged there. Malfoy certainly looked like a mess compared to what he usually looked like; prim, proper, and an obvious pure blood.

But he couldn't deny that he looked attractive this way. Especially confessing about strange feelings (that weren't nausea or hate) when looking at him, and Harry felt a smile curl his lips.

"What are you smiling about, Potter?" Malfoy inquired, his glare softening just a tad.

"That can't possibly be a spell that I've cast," he said slowly, "because I've been," he tried to choose his words carefully, "experiencing those same things..... Well, when I look at you, I mean. Or when I hear your voice or when you look at me."

There. He admitted it, blushing. Now maybe the boy would leave him alone.

He never thought it would be possible for Malfoy to be paler than he already was, but it was, and Draco frowned, "what?" he cleared his throat, "you mean to tell me that this isn't a charm? An illusion? A curse?"

Harry shook his head in response, smiling nervously.

"Then what could this possibly mean?" He said, "that I followed you around on my broom during the Quidditch match to make sure you were..." he trailed off, then continued, "and I went to your stupid common room, lost twenty Galleons, to c-check on you.." He said the next few words slowly, "_all on my own free will_?"

Harry almost forgot how to breathe, "you... that was intentional, saving me? And you weren't in the common room for the temperature, you were... there to see if I was okay?" He couldn't help but grin despite himself.

Malfoy glared at him, but didn't say anything, so Harry continued, "Well, at least I know that it's mutual, it was freaking me out for a while now.. I thought the heat brought it to me." He tried to sound as casual as he could, but couldn't stop the tremor in his voice.

"That doesn't explain it still being there when we were in your cozy little common room," Draco said, and Harry sighed at the mention of it.

"Right. About that, please don't spread the password around, we're getting it changed anyway," he waited until Malfoy nodded his head before continuing, "so, I guess... things are fine now, right?" He looked up into those ice blue eyes and his breath was taken away instantly.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, I guess," the boy replied, not averting his eyes. Harry hadn't realized they were that close, and shuddered, feeling warm breath on his parted lips. That platinum strand of hair still hadn't budged, and not being able to take it anymore, Harry reached up and brushed it aside, his fingers stroking the skin on Malfoy's temple in the process.

He heard the boy take a sharp breath, and he pulled away instantly, wondering if he should apologize. When the boy didn't get angry or run away, he decided not to, and turned around to leave. As soon as he took a step away, his poor wrist was grabbed again and he was spun around viciously.

Before he could register what was going on, Malfoy had pulled him close and pressed his lips against his, kissing him furiously. He stood there, frozen for a moment, and once the shock wore off, he was trying to remember how to kiss, but his head was pounding a little too much.

I'm kissing Draco Malfoy, a little voice cried in his head. I'm_ kissing_ Draco Malfoy!

It felt like someone lit a match inside him, or something just clicked, because he never thought it could feel this way. Sure, he kissed a couple of girls before, but not like this. They were too soft, fragile, gentle. This was fiery, passionate, and made his head spin, and he felt like he was made to kiss Draco, and that Draco was made to kiss him.

His fingers trailed up Draco's sides and were soon tangled in those soft, platinum locks, and he could feel Malfoy's heartbeat through his chest. It was beating so fast and hard, he thought maybe the boy was going through a heart attack, and that would probably explain why Malfoy was kissing him; he was ill.

Nothing of such happened, and so, they continued like this for awhile, before Harry pulled away slightly, out of breath. "_Draco." _He raised his eyes to those beautiful blue ones, and watched as a smile spread across the pale boys lips.

His heart nearly exploded at the sight, and he found himself grinning widely, "You're.. smiling," was all he could say.

Malfoy shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I am," he replied. "First time I've heard you say my name, Potter."

Harry's grin softened into a smile, before a thought crossed his mind and he bit his lip, "If this.. started during the heat wave, do you think it'll leave once it's over?"

He watched those beautiful eyes widen, "Maybe. And maybe things will start making sense again and I can go back to hating you like I always did."

He felt his heart drop slightly, finding himself disappointed and filled with hope, before the boy continued, "But I honestly don't want that to happen, this feels much better." He leaned down and kissed him again, but this time softly and Harry smiled against his lips.

"We'll see," he said. His assignment, his friends, his dreams, were forgotten in this moment, and his world was temporarily behind the farthest bookshelf, with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

x

* * *

The heat wave had lasted maybe about another week before it finally quieted down into fall, and Hermione removed the charm on their common room. Students were finally wearing uniforms properly, and Pansy Parkinson, much to her dismay, had to cover up. Everyone was bursting with new found energy, and were pleased every time they left Potions class, pretending they hadn't longed to be in there previously. Things were finally normal.

Professor McGonagall had severely punished the first years who had given away the Gryffindor password to Malfoy, and even went as far as to tell their parents, who sent Howlers. Harry was sure they wouldn't be doing that again.

He and his two best friends sat outside, enjoying the comfortable temperature, but of course Hermione was back to lecturing them.

"You really ought to focus more, Ron, honestly.." Hermione said, looking through his notes and clicking her tongue every five seconds. She had already given him a lecture about his own work, and poor Ron had to endure it now. She was always harsher on Ron.

"Give him a break, `Mione, after all the heat was terrible," Harry said, casting the red head a wink when she wasn't looking.

"Well, alright," she said, shaking her head at the two of them before setting down his notes. Her eyes went past Harry, behind him, and she immediately made a face, "oh look who's coming."

He didn't have to turn to know who she was talking about, but did so automatically. He heard Ron cough behind him, muttering a "ferret" under his breath. His eyes trailed up until they met with those familiar blue ones, who were at the moment sneering at the three of them.

"Potter," he spat, in his usual form of greeting, and he took one look at his friends and wrinkled his nose.

"Malfoy," Harry said darkly, but his eyes were dancing. Even the sinister look in Draco's eyes wasn't death threatening, but he knew he was the only one who could see it: The boy was smiling.

Hermione and Ron exchanged the usual insults with Crabbe, Pansy and Goyle, and of course, Draco's group was the first to leave. Harry watched the back of the blond's retreating form, and his breath hitched in surprise when the boy turned around to look at him one last time, quickly smirking, then disappearing behind Hogwarts doors.

His heart felt like it was dancing.

"Honestly, it's like he thrives off the hate," Hermione sighed, and Ron nodded in agreement. The three of them sat out there for a long while before retreating back into the Gryffindor common room.

"Um," Harry began, "I actually think I left something in the library when I was up there earlier," he stopped at the steps in front of the Fat Lady, "I'll meet you here?"

"You really have to stop losing your quills," Ron said. "You might not get lucky and find them every time."

He blushed, grinning. "Yeah, I'll be back," he said and hurried off in the direction of the library. He already saw Goyle, Crabbe, and Parkinson sauntering off towards the Great Hall by themselves, and his heart did a flip.

He already knew who would be waiting for him behind the farthest bookshelf in the library, and knew who would be waiting there for him even during the winter, with secret smiles and secret kisses and hushed words.

Draco Malfoy.

**fin.**

x x x

* * *

Yes, this will be the end of the one shot, please don't request a sequel unless you absolutely feel a STRONG desire for one. However, my last story, since I received so many requests for a sequel, I decided to make one. It's still in it's planning stages, but it will be up soon!


End file.
